Last night I had the strangest dream: Oats and I were in Peterpatch, Ontario, staying with the-first-girl-I-was-ever-in-love-with and her wife and child. For the sake of the story, let’s call her X.
It was awkward, because X and family weren’t actually talking to us or really even acknowledging our existence, so I got it into my head that we needed rescuing and the only person who could do that was, of course, Amak. Trouble is, I didn’t know how to find him. I finally got X to talk with me, and she said she knew who Amak was but not his phone number. “What about the Welsh family?” I asked, referring to Amak’s housemates. “Do you know where their house is?” No, she told me, but since it was Tuesday night (?!), Amak was sure to be at this one certain bar (?!!). I looked up its number in the phone book and called, and asked the bartender to find Amak, which he eventually did.
So there’s Amak, on the phone, saying “Hello?” and I suddenly realize that this guy has no idea who I am, aside from my blog.
“Uh…” I stuttered.
“Hello?” Amak asked again, confused. It was very very noisy in the background.
“Yeah, hi,” I said. “This is feral geographer. Um… I’m in your town.”
“What? I can’t hear you,” he said. “Did you just say that this is feral geographer?”
“Yeah, it is,” I replied. “Hi! What are you doing? Want to hang out?”
Cuz you know, it’s not the least bit weird to introduce yourself by your blog name, or call up a person you’ve never met and talk to them all casual-like, as if you’re old buddies.*
Of course, this is a dream, and aside from that I’m quite certain that Amak is a kind and gracious person, so he said he’d love to meet up, and he’d come find us. Then he hung up. Oats and I were still at X’s house, and I was pretty sure that Amak didn’t know where that was, which was suddenly very worrying. I was trying to figure out what to do about this when I woke up.
There are several funny aspects to the dream, including the fact that I am not in contact with the-first-girl-I-was-ever-in-love-with and have never met her wife nor her child, though obviously my subconscious is telling me that I have huge issues around this (I feel like an ignored houseguest…? What…?). Also, why would I go to Peterpatch and not contact Amak ahead of time to see if he’d be around? Finally, given that all I know about Amak is from his blog and he’s given little indication there as to his social drinking habits, why do I think that Amak is a fan of loud noisy bars, on Tuesday nights in particular?
The mind reels.
*Actually, it occurs to me that many of you reading this are bloggers who’ve done similar things: Meeting the writers of one’s favourite blogs isn’t that unusual, I realize, nor is the intense kinship one can feel for these online friends. It’s just that I’ve never done it: Only once have I approached a blogger on the street, whom I’d never met but whose blog is on the QCB blogroll, and even then I was given the recommendation by a mutual acquaintance so it wasn’t that strange. But other than that, I’ve got my online life and my face-to-face life and they are very seperate from one another. One day, I’d like to change that… Queer Canada Blogger Meet-Up? Yes, please! But I don’t have time to organize it at the moment, so it’ll hafta wait.